the sound of forgetting
by Dorminchu
Summary: Elliot's absence is a small comfort, but it keeps him going, one foot in front of the other, his movements colored by a sluggishness that precedes the inevitable. [Spoilers for 4x04.]


a/n: I've been meaning to write something featuring Tyrell for a long time, as he's one of my favorite characters. Title taken from the aptly named track from _The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo OST_.

* * *

He'd known what would become of him from the moment they found the deer's carcass and the white van crashed aside the road shortly thereafter. There's no choice but to find peace with this outcome, but peace will not suffice after what he's done.

Elliot's absence is a small comfort, but it keeps him going, one foot in front of the other, his movements colored by a sluggishness that precedes the inevitable.

Snow has permeated the expensive leather shoes, bleeding into him through his soles. The wound in his belly throbs with each successive breath. He deserves this pain, and more.

* * *

_Elliot stalked away, ten paces, twenty, until his silhouette was barely visible in the moonlight. Tyrell waited for him to disappear. Surely Elliot didn't want to stick around and witness the inevitable._

_A violent shiver wracked him. He folded his arms around himself like he was only a boy._

_Neither of them were dressed appropriately to survive the unforgiving frost, and for a moment, he felt afraid for Elliot's sake more than his own._

* * *

He remembers watching the life drain from Elliot's face, his hands slick with warm blood, weeping; relinquishing his anguish towards Angela Moss and then Irving, finding no comfort between the two; his hands locked around Knowles's throat, her face purple and her legs kicking faster; curling himself over the empty bassinet; trapped as Irving's prisoner, day in and day out, engulfed in his worries—for Joanna, the child, Elliot, cyclical strife—and no outlet, only the agonizing stretch of time.

He remembers AllSafe.

* * *

_Elliot stopped, turned around, slowly, at odds with himself. Tyrell lowered his head, trying to preserve what little body heat he had left._

_After another minute, Tyrell heard the crunch of footsteps on snow. He didn't raise his head, awaiting the telltale crack of gunfire, Elliot's surprised scream. He hoped his own death would be quicker. But there were no gunshots, and th__e footsteps stopped in front of him._ _Tyrell raised his head._

_"You're wrong," Elliot said, _h__is expression unreadable under the hood._ "I don't like being an outsider either. Maybe I'm just good at hiding it."_

* * *

Tyrell remembers cracking him across the nose as though it were an eternity ago—without gloves, he'd felt naked, blinded by emotion—had him pinned on the floor of his apartment, Elliot's teeth stained red, bared viciously.

He doesn't know why he's thinking about this.

* * *

_"Why'd you come back? Why aren't you going?" It sounded defensive, petulant. Tyrell had given up the greater pretense of dignity, though his pride remained intact._

_And Elliot had paused, not helpless but guilty. _He glanced at the upturned log, the space beside Tyrell, occupied by nothing at all, then_ _ took his hood down, perfectly in control._ "I don't know. I guess it felt wrong to leave you. Besides, I think you're the only person I know that actually likes me."_

* * *

It's difficult to accept either side of Elliot as an opposite, truly; each aspect is a reflection of the other, carrying an idealized goal hidden behind layers of mistrust and indecision, a bid for godhood hindered only by human imperfection. In those fleeting moments of cooperation Elliot has demonstrated a confidence that bordered on arrogance, but together, with Tyrell's direction, they had flourished.

And now Elliot has flourished, an amalgamation of himself. His confliction is sound. He will not be controlled by anyone.

* * *

_Tyrell saw an old friend, a brilliant and dangerous partner, the only one who could possibly understand exactly because he had suffered._

* * *

Better, now, to think of the man he'd loved than the son he will never see, the wife he will never hold. An unknown animal wails in the distance.

Tyrell falls to his knees. He can't feel anything anymore.

The frozen earth and dead leaves beneath him shift, moonlight reflecting into shapes he cannot comprehend; he instead stares into the void, seeking refuge.


End file.
